


A Kittypet's Son

by thesoulpvnk



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 23:34:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18679561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesoulpvnk/pseuds/thesoulpvnk
Summary: Thrushpelt brings his son to ThunderClan.





	A Kittypet's Son

“Just a little longer, little one..”

Thrushpelt padded through the cool shade of the tall trees, a little bundle of pale brown fur between his jaws. His heart was pounding in his chest, his head filled with anxiety; he was deeply afraid that ThunderClan wouldn’t accept this tiny kit.

 

_ “There are boxes around the house, a-and, things have been moving around, furniture missing.. I’m worried, Thrushpelt _ .”

_ The pale brown tom pressed his muzzle against that of a cinnamon tortoiseshell, and purred, trying to calm her. “Everything will be fine, Tansy. Twolegs are strange creatures, I’m sure it’s nothing..” _

_ Tansy pulled away, slowly shaking her head. She glanced up to Thrushpelt with sad, pale blue eyes. “I-I think my housefolk are moving.” _

_ “Moving?” _

_ “Going to a different place.” Tansy explained, “They won’t live here anymore, and.. They’ll take me with them..” _

_ “What?” Thrushpelt sputtered, “But- Why? Can’t you stay?” _

_ “My housefolk wouldn’t let me.” She murmured. Tansy saw Thrushpelt opening her jaws to speak, and she quickly continued, “You’d have me join ThunderClan, wouldn’t you?” _

_ “.. Would you?” _

_ “That kind of life isn’t for me. And I care for my housefolk too much to leave them.” Tansy shifted her paws in the soft dirt carefully. “But.. my son. Our son - w-would you take him?” _

_ His son. _

_ Thrushpelt hadn’t seen him for some time - only when he was just a newborn, with no more sense than a fat mouse in Green-leaf. Tansy had told him that her twolegs coddled him and barely let her near him most of the time, which was why she hadn’t been able to bring him out for any visits. _

_ The thought of his own son joining ThunderClan warmed Thrushpelt’s heart. It had been many moons since Mosskit, Stonekit, and Mistykit had disappeared, taken by a desperate fox. He hadn’t been their father, not by blood, but they had been Bluestar’s - Bluefang, at the time. That meant he would have been the best father he could have towards them.. If they hadn’t died. _

_ “I’ll take him.” Thrushpelt promised, “If that’s what you really want.” _

_ “I want the best life for my son,” Tansy paused briefly, then brought her tail up and rested it against Thrushpelt’s, “And I want the best for you. I know you’ll be a wonderful father.” _

_ She gently rubbed her cheek against Thrushpelt’s, then turned and padded off into her twoleg den, a light leap in her step. _

A son.  _ Thrushpelt thought. With a bit more worry, he wondered if ThunderClan would actually accept him. He would have to tell them that his son’s mother was a kittypet.. And there was no excuse for that. _

_ But it was Green-leaf. There would be plenty of prey to feed the kit, and Bluestar was always looking for more warriors to strengthen ThunderClan and expand their borders. He simply hoped Bluestar’s greediness for more territory wouldn’t lead their future into one of bloodshed and war. He wouldn’t let his son grow up with his claws drenched in the blood of his enemies. _

 

With every step Thrushpelt took, he could feel his heart beating faster and faster, his thoughts drenched in uncertainty.  _ It’s fine _ . He told himself,  _ Queens have kits with kittypets and loners all the time _ . _ This is no different _ . Nevermind that no molly would ever admit such a thing.

He slid down into the ravine and padded to the entrance to the ThunderClan camp, and took in a deep breath - then pushed through the bracken and into the clearing.

No cat seemed to notice him, at first - he had said he was going out hunting, after all. The little kit really did look like nothing more than a squirrel. But, then - Poppydawn looked from where she was lying in the sun, and her eyes widened. Windflight, who was lazing beside her, looked up, and quickly stood.

“.. Thrushpelt?” The grey tom questioned.

Most cats were turning their heads towards him, now; one warrior, Whitefur, approached him.

“Whose kit is this?” He hissed. 

Thrushpelt set the mewling kit by his paws, and wrapped his tail around him protectively. He puffed up his chest, trying to make himself look as confident as he could. “Mine.” He announced, “This is my son.”

“ _ What?” _ The clearing erupted with the chatter and hisses of the other cats. Thrushpelt caught some of their words  

“.. Loner?” 

“Half-blood!”

“ _ Traitor!” _

“ _ What _ is the meaning of this?!” Bluestar’s yowl cut through most of the murmuring, and the clan fell silent. She leapt from the Highrock where she had been basking in the sun, and shook her pelt. The crowd surrounding Thrushpelt parted to make way for the ThunderClan leader.

“This is my  _ son _ , Bluestar.” Thrushpelt didn’t raise his voice to indicate anger; but the sternness in his tone and the glint in his eye told otherwise. It was hard to imagine the time when Thrushpelt and Bluestar had been considered mates by the clan; of course, everything had fallen apart when Mosskit, Stonekit, and Mistykit had been taken by a fox. She had still trusted him enough to make him deputy when she became leader.. But that didn’t mean they were still on tense terms.

“And the mother?” The she-cat hissed. “Clearly, it was no  _ ThunderClan _ she-cat.”

“A kittypet.”

“A kittypet?” Bluestar challenged. “Loner’s abandoned kits are one thing, Thrushpelt. A kittypet’s son is another.”

Thrushpelt took a deep breath, turning his gaze away from Bluestar briefly as he scanned the crowd. If Bluestar would allow this kit into ThunderClan, he wouldn’t be the only non fully clanborn cat. Many queens wouldn’t reveal the father of their kits, and no one would acknowledge it. His own father, Windflight, was half-clan, and had WindClan blood running through his veins.

Bluestar looked down at Thrushpelt, her eyes narrowed and filled with anger. “If you were any other cat, Thrushpelt, you and your kittypet son would be banished-”

“Wait!” A small black cat was pushing through to the front of the crowd. Coldfrost shouldered past Whitefur, and stood beside Bluestar. “I was born a kittypet, Bluestar. You were there when Thistleclaw gave me the offer to join ThunderClan. Would you call me weak simply for what I was born as?”

Thrushpelt’s eyes widened; Bluestar seemed so furious that he was afraid she would attack the black tom right then and there. But Coldfrost didn’t back down, only raised his head as tall as he could, and stared intently into his leader’s eyes.

Bluestar’s face, save for the fury in her gaze, showed no emotion. But her body gave her away; her paws kneaded into the dirt, tearing up the grass with her sharp claws. At last, she spoke. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” Coldfrost seemed to let out a sigh of relief, then bowed his head to Bluestar, and backed away.

Thrushpelt opened his jaws to give Bluestar his own thanks, though she flicked her tail angrily, motioning for him to be silent. “ _ Don’t _ think you’re getting away that easily. Bring the kit to the nursery. I will call a clan meeting when your punishment is decided. Until then, you aren’t allowed out of camp or anything from the fresh-kill pile.”

Thrushpelt nodded to her, silently. The blue-grey she-cat turned and padded away, disappearing into her den beneath the Highrock. Whitefur shot a glance towards Thrushpelt, then followed after his leader.

Most of the crowd surrounding him dissipated, as cats returned to their warm spots in the sun. Many of them shot glances towards Thrushpelt; and the brown tom knew he and his son would be the subject of gossip for the next moon.

But he would deal with that when it came. The kit was wailing louder, now, hungry for milk and warmth. Thrushpelt gently picked him up and began padding to the nursery, as Bluestar had instructed.

The thick bramble bush that made up the nursery was empty, save for Willowpelt and her own kit, Darkkit. The other queens had gone out to bask in the sun as their kits tussled in the warm grass; but Darkkit was far too young to be playing, let alone without his mother.

“Thrushpelt?” Willowpelt squinted, tilting her head in confusion. “What are you- Is.. Is that a kit?”

“It’s my son,” He murmured in reply, setting the pale brown tom down so he could speak, “Bluestar instructed me..”

“She assumes I’ll nurse him, doesn’t she?” She scoffed, then let out a sigh. Willowpelt had begun to knead her claws into her soft moss nest, tearing up the bedding. “He’s half kittypet, isn’t he?”

“.. Y-Yes..” Thrushpelt replied, his voice shaking, “His mother’s name is Tansy.. Her housefolk- er, twolegs, are taking her away. She wanted..” He trailed off, a lump growing in his throat. The reality of this all was beginning to set in.. He’d likely never see his mate again. And all he had left to remind him of her was their son. 

Tansy’s words from earlier that day echoed in his mind.  _ I.. want him to grow up like a real cat should.. Hunting his own prey, not eating slop and dry pellets. A proud, fearless cat. Like his father. _

“Darkkit’s father isn’t Patchpelt. Like most cats seem to think..” Willowpelt murmured, her dark tail sweeping over her son’s sleeping body protectively. Thrushpelt looked in her eyes, and they shared an understanding look. “I’ll take him.”

Thrushpelt’s heart swelled with joy. He carefully picked his son up once again and placed him carefully at Willowpelt’s belly; the small kit quickly began to suckle beside Darkkit. He was much less fluffy and more lanky than the other tomkit.. It was easy to see that he wasn’t a full ThunderClan cat.

“I’m sure Darkkit will be excited to have a new brother when he wakes up.” Willowpelt purred softly, “What would you like to name your son?”

“You should name him.” Thrushpelt insisted.

Willowpelt nuzzled the kit at her belly gently, thinking carefully. She looked back up to Thrushpelt, gazing at him softly. “I’ll name him Tansykit.” She meowed, “After his mother.”

  
  


“All cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather beneath the Highrock for a clan meeting!”

Dusk had fallen by the time Bluestar had made her decision about Thrushpelt. The sun was just a sliver against the purple-blue sky, and twinkling stars of Silverpelt were just beginning to show themselves.

Cats gathered around in front of the Highrock, kits tumbling out of the nursery to be the first ones to the crowd. Elders slinked from their nests in the fallen oak to listen to Bluestar’s words, and apprentices sat beside their mentors, listening intently.

“Thrushpelt,” Bluestar began, “Please step forward.”

The crowd parted so the pale brown tom could step forward. He gazed up at Bluestar intently, his heart pounding in his chest. She stared down at him, malice in her eyes.. Thrushpelt felt a pang of fear and sadness. He remembered a time when he had been in love with the she-cat; back when they were both warriors, and Thrushpelt he might even raise Bluestar’s kits as his own..

But that was past, now. Mosskit, Stonekit, and Mistykit were dead. And Bluestar wasn’t the same she-cat that she had once been. Everything had changed.

“I’ve gone over the details, and have decided what your punishment will be for betraying your clan for a  _ kittypet _ .” She hissed. “I cannot have a cat like you serving as my deputy for any longer. As leader of ThunderClan, I hereby declare that Thrushpelt will no longer serve as deputy of this clan. He has showed that his loyalty doesn’t lie first with ThunderClan, and that is unacceptable for a deputy.”

Thrushpelt didn’t dare to look at the cats behind him. He could hear some murmurs of agreement, and he felt nothing but shame and guilt. He knew he deserved this, but it was still hard to hear.

Bluestar looked over the gathered cats once again, her gaze focusing in on the snowy colored pelt of her nephew, Whitefur. “Whitefur will take Thrushpelt’s place.”

Gasps and yowls of protest were thrown from the crowd. 

“He hasn’t even mentored an apprentice!” One cat snarled.

“What about the proper ceremony? _ ” _ Another hissed.

“ _ Silence!”  _ Bluestar growled, “Have you all forgotten the Warrior Code? The word of the clan leader is law. _My_ word is law. Whitefur is mentor to Mousepaw, anyways. He will make a fine deputy - and he  _ won’t _ betray his clan like the cat before him.” Nodding towards Whitefur, who looked proud to be chosen, Bluestar continued.

“Willowpelt has agreed to nurse Thrushpelt’s kit. Because of this, it shall be his sole responsibility to care for her. Until she returns to her warrior duties, he will bring her fresh-kill, bedding, and whatever else she needs. He will also not be permitted out of camp without an escort of my or Whitefur’s choosing; otherwise, Thrushpelt will be confined to camp, and assigned  apprentice duties to keep him busy. Any cat that sees him doing otherwise should directly report to Whitefur or me.”

Bluestar paused, pondering her thoughts for a moment - was she considering giving Thrushpelt  _ more _ punishment, on the spot? A deputy being demoted, and being practically turned back into an apprentice for six moons seemed harsh enough.

“That is all.” The leader finished, stepping back from the edge of the Highrock. The rest of the clan began to clear away, while some ran to Whitefur to congratulate him on his deputyship. His apprentice, Mousepaw, in particular, seemed to be proud to have the deputy himself for her mentor. The excited way she gushed to her mother, White-eye, was clear proof of that.

Once most of the commotion died down, and cats started to settle down for the night, Whitefur approached Thrushpelt. The thick-furred white tom had Runningpaw, Bluestar’s apprentice, and Mousepaw, beside him.

“We’re going hunting before night falls. You’ll be coming along, too, Thrush _ paw _ .” Whitefur meowed, an edge of arrogance in his tone. Runningpaw snickered from beside him.

Thrushpelt sighed gently, dipping his head in understanding, and Whitefur lead the way out of of the thorn tunnel and into the forest. He would be dealing with those types of insults for a while, he imagined.

Thrushpelt hoped he’d be able to see Tansy again, before her twolegs took her away.. He at least wanted to her to know that their son was safe, and had a wonderful she-cat looking after him. It was unlikely.. But it didn’t stop Thrushpelt from yearning for one final meeting between them.

It would all be worth the pain and humiliation. Tansykit would be a strong, capable ThunderClan warrior, with a kind, good heart, like his mother. Thrushpelt would make sure of it.


End file.
